


The Answer

by morganpixie



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Little bit of Fluff, Little bit of angst, M/M, bruce is angry and going through a midlife crisis at like 19, bruce loves jeremiah reluctlantly, enemies to lovers?, post ace chemicals, rated teen for a bit of language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganpixie/pseuds/morganpixie
Summary: Bruce can't shake the unbearable feeling that something is missing. Wandering around at night leads him to the answer, but he's not going to like it.
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 81





	The Answer

If there’s one thing that can be said about Bruce Wayne, it’s that he doesn’t have the most impressive grasp on his emotions. This doesn’t mean that he loses his composure at the worst times or that he has what may be referred to as a breakdown every time something goes awry in his life. If that were the case, he wouldn’t be able to go a single day without crying enough tears to give himself a serious headache. 

Rather, Bruce’s unstable handle on his emotions comes down to his lack of understanding in how to deal with them. He can handle unbearable sadness and anger, perhaps even better than most. He refuses to break in the face of his adversaries, and his courage is part of what makes others view him as something of a hero. But, Bruce’s unbelievable resolve will only carry him so far, and when it comes to really knowing who he is and what he is feeling, he finds it to be a serious challenge.

Most people feel better about their emotions after taking the time to discuss them, to really take a pickax to the layers and layers of emotional blockage and face what needs to be faced. All that they need is a person who will lend a willing ear. This is not something that Bruce lacks, but it is where he stumbles. Bruce is not one to burden others with his problems unless someone else is involved or in danger. He refuses to look Alfred in the eye and tell him that he feels confused and afraid on a constant basis, and he absolutely will not break down and ask Selina why he feels unnaturally empty, even on his best days. His refusal to confide in his loved ones isn’t for fear that they will be unable to help him, but rather because of his refusal to burden them with problems that are so far out of the realm of necessity to the current crisis. 

After all, it was No Man’s Land. People were dying in the streets, gangs had been brutally maiming each other for months, and there were toxic chemicals lining the waters around Gotham City like pond scum. Nobody cared about the fragile mental state of Bruce Wayne when the city and its people were hanging on by the skin of its teeth, least of all Bruce himself. Enough had happened to the general innocent populace because of him already. He, Alfred and Selina had better things to do for the city than sit around giving him a psychology lesson. 

Regardless, Bruce wasn’t naive. He hadn’t been naive, truly naive, since the day his parents were gunned down before his eyes. He knew that he couldn’t keep everything inside, couldn’t continue to just ignore his increasingly crumbling mental state and write his emotional issues off as unimportant. He needed someone to listen, but not someone that he felt he was burdening. He had already crossed off Alfred and Selina, and that definitely ruled out Jim, Lee, Lucius and pretty much anyone who worked in or with the GCPD.

Essentially, he had no one.

And even if he did, they wouldn’t understand, and, although Bruce tried to convince himself otherwise, they wouldn’t forgive him. How could other people forgive Bruce when Bruce himself couldn’t even do so?

What he felt was appalling, terrifying, and by all accounts, unforgivable. No matter what he did, it was eating him from the inside out.

This was what led Bruce to take a walk on a particularly bad night, a night when he had too much on his mind and the emptiness simply hurt too much to sit still and deal with. He had left Alfred asleep back in the small apartment that they had commandeered shortly after the bridges blew. Alfred didn’t like to sleep when it was only he and Bruce in the apartment. He became increasingly paranoid as more and more time passed in No Man’s Land, and much like a small child in the dark, he started to shape shadows into humans, and began to hear voices instead of rain or wind. Bruce hated seeing Alfred so distraught, but after everything that had happened in the past seven years, all the kidnappings and the murder attempts on them both, he knew his butler was entitled to his paranoia, even if it made finding time to leave after dark a bit of a chore. Luckily, Alfred, among all his military tricks and his seemingly superhuman resolve, was still human, at his core, so he couldn’t stay awake all the time. Bruce could see his exhaustion creeping up on him on certain days, so he knew that those were the nights he would be able to leave without needing to explain why. That was, after all, what he was trying to avoid.

Bruce supposed he had at least a few hours before Alfred woke up, so he wandered, as lost as he felt, trying to find an answer in all the grime and muck of the streets. He glanced at the buildings around him, none of which were even close to lively. He passed through every street of the Green Zone, never meeting a soul, since no one in their right mind would wander around a city street after dark, even if it wasn’t rapidly turning into a war zone. After at least an hour, he passed the hospital, and suddenly stopped.

The emptiness subsided at the thought.

It was, of course, replaced with a whole host of new emotions, including but not limited to disgust and anger, mostly at himself. He couldn’t do that. Not after everything that had happened. If anyone found out, they would think he was out of his mind. It would be, as he had repeated in his mind countless times, unforgivable. He didn’t even want to imagine what Selina especially would say if word got out. 

But he couldn’t move away. He couldn’t just leave it be, no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t want to do it, or at least he didn’t want to want to do it. But he knew what he felt, and despite the shame at the knowledge that it was the first thing to make him feel anything in weeks, he knew it was what he had come out here to do all along, even if he didn’t know it until he got there. He needed someone to talk to, someone he felt he wasn’t bothering with his problems. He needed to talk to someone about the confusion and the emptiness he had been running away from. Who better than the cause of it all?

Bruce stalked quietly into the hospital. He thought he would feel more apprehensive, but strangely enough, he hadn’t felt so sure of anything since before the city became everyone’s personal hell. He passed by a night nurse making her quiet rounds. The hospital used to be very hectic towards the earlier days of No Man’s Land, with doctors and various other staff members buzzing about at all hours. Things had begun to settle down with time, so there were only one or two nurses around to keep an eye of the overnight patients, or rather, patient. There was only one person in the hospital, and he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Taking a full body plunge into a vat of searing chemicals wasn’t something one recovers from with a bandage and a lollipop. 

The nurses knew Bruce from all the time he had spent visiting Selina during the first few months of No Man’s Land, and he had developed quite the reputation as something of a heroic figure doing right by the people whenever possible, so they couldn’t help but trust him. The night nurse didn’t press him when he told her he couldn’t sleep and offered to continue her rounds for her. It was a welcome relief for her, and she knew Bruce well enough to know that he did sometimes like to just turn up and lend a hand for no reason, so she simply gave him a smile and a reassuring squeeze on the arm before sweeping from the room. 

Bruce took a deep breath and slowly pulled back the curtain next to the bed adjacent to the window. His stomach did an involuntary leap and he was starting to get tired of feeling things again.

Jeremiah had been in a coma for weeks now. Every inch of visible skin was bandaged up, save for a small bit around the eyes, which Bruce hadn’t seen since their fight on the catwalk. He had been staring right into those sickly sweet eyes while Jeremiah desperately grabbed at his face and pleaded for Bruce to understand him. What had he called him? A joke without a punchline? Yes, that was a strangely Jeremiah thing to say, perfect for his last words before taking a dive into acid. Bruce had to fight the urge to pry his eyelids open just so he could have one more look at those eyes, the eyes that haunted him and comforted him at the same time in a confusing whirlwind of emotions he didn’t think he would ever understand. 

Because, in the end, no matter how hard Bruce tried to deny it, all of this came down to Jeremiah Valeska. Of course, all of this was because of Jeremiah Valeska in the first place. The city wouldn’t be falling apart if it weren’t for him, but neither would Bruce. All of the emotions he was too afraid to talk about, that he couldn’t explain, were because of him. He had felt empty since Jeremiah has fallen into his coma. He hadn’t been sure of any feeling he had experienced since Jeremiah’s fall, and that was something he had been too afraid to confront.

Bruce grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and sat by Jeremiah’s bedside. He did so quietly and with careful movements, as though he was afraid of waking him. Perhaps it would be easier to act like Jeremiah couldn’t hear him or feel his presence, but Bruce decided to indulge a fantasy. He was here to talk to Jeremiah, so he was going to act like he could hear him, regardless of whether or not that was foolish. 

“Hello, Jeremiah,” Bruce whispered with apprehension. He may not have been unsure while he was walking through the doors into the building, but now that he was here, face to face with what should be the person he hated most in the world, he wasn’t sure how to begin the pseudo-conversation. He didn’t know what to address first. He swallowed hard, already feeling the beginnings of tears welling behind his eyes, something it was much too early for. He hadn’t let himself feel vulnerable in a very long time. He clenched his fist softly on top of his knee and kept going.

“I suppose you’re probably surprised to see me. Or maybe you’re not, I’m not really sure. You always seemed to know me better than I thought you did, so maybe you were expecting me.” Bruce was staring hard at his own hands, unable to look at Jeremiah’s nearly lifeless face as he spoke, “I never wanted to believe that you understood me. Everything you did, it always disgusted me. I mean, you wanted me to understand you, but you were the one that was pushing me away.” 

Bruce let out a small huff of laughter. “You pushed me away, and in the end, I was the one that came to you. And you weren’t even trying to get me here. Isn’t that ironic?”

Now, Bruce looked up at Jeremiah’s face, as though he expected an answer. After a few seconds of tense silence, he went on. “I’m not even completely sure why I’m here. I mean, most of the time I’ve known you, you’ve done nothing but make me miserable, so why are you the one I go to when I feel like I need someone? It just doesn’t really make any sense. But, I suppose if I’m being honest with you…” Bruce trailed off. Now, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Jeremiah’s face. He barely recognized him under all the bandages and the charred flesh. 

He found that that thought made him thoroughly sad.

“If I’m being honest, nothing makes sense when it involves you.”

Bruce felt his lips quiver as he leaned forward slightly to lean his elbows on the bed. It was something of an awkward sitting position, but for some odd reason, it calmed Bruce’s nerves slightly.

“I miss you,” Bruce murmured with a shudder through his spine. It felt so good to finally say it out loud. It was the thought that had been tormenting him for so long, that he just couldn’t voice to anyone else. “I shouldn’t miss you, not after all of this. You created this mad city in your own twisted image. You tortured Alfred, you shot Selina, you were going to make me relive my parents’ murder just because you wanted to be a part of it. You are completely and totally insane, and I should hate you so much, I should want to smother you with a pillow just so I don’t have to live with the knowledge that you’re still here, breathing. And yet, despite everything, I miss you, Jeremiah Valeska.”

Once he started to let it out, it was hard to stop. He had let all of the feelings pool for so long, finally breaking the dam was almost too big of a rush. “I had never felt more sure of myself than when you were around. I mean, I was so lost for so long after I killed Ra’s the first time. I couldn’t comprehend anything for months, and then when you came along, it felt like everything sort of...clicked, I guess. Like, you were some missing piece in my life, and without you, I couldn’t be who I’m meant to be. Maybe that doesn’t make a lot of sense, so let me put this in a way you’ll understand.” A sly grin crept up onto Bruce’s face, and he started to wish more than ever that Jeremiah would open his eyes. 

“Without you, I’m starting to feel like a joke with no punchline.”

The tears started to roll down Bruce’s face then. He couldn’t help it anymore. This was too much for him, in more than one way. “It’s just so hard for me to know that you’re not out there anymore. I mean, I didn’t see you for a while after you blew the bridges, but you were always there. I knew I would see you again, but now I don’t even know if you’ll ever wake up again. And I just feel so empty without you, and I don’t know why!” 

Bruce started raising his voice. He could feel himself becoming hysterical, a feeling he absolutely despised. He tried to regain some semblance of composure over himself by deep breathing, but he just ended up hyperventilating and needing to stand. There was a feeling gnawing at his stomach now, making him press a hand hard to his chest as though in physical pain. His eyes were bleary with tears as he stared down at Jeremiah’s still body, desperately wishing he could speak to him, just once more. He felt himself crumble and he dropped to his knees next to the bed, unconsciously grasping at Jeremiah’s bandaged hand as he did so.

“I want to hate you! I really, really want to hate you! But I just can’t! No matter what, you are the only thing that makes me feel whole, and I just can’t understand why!”

Bruce got to his feet, keeping his grip on Jeremiah’s hand, but staring down at his face. “You always knew there was some connection, you felt it before I did. That’s why you did all of this. You knew all along, and I didn’t listen, and now look where I am! Why, Jeremiah?! Why do I feel like this?! Why are you the one I need?!” He let out a sizeable sob that echoed around the empty room, and he broke.

“Tell me!!”

It was a scream coupled with the slam of the chair next to the bed as Bruce knocked it over in his rage, a desperate plea that fell on deaf ears. Jeremiah didn’t move, couldn’t move, and the emptiness started to replace the pain again. Bruce started to feel more alone than he had in a very long time, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted the pain of the last few minutes back. 

Bruce stood still for a few moments, catching his breath, quieting his sobs, his face hot with shame over his nonsensical outburst. When he finally felt at least slightly relieved, he turned and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“This is what drove you insane, isn’t it?” Bruce was staring hard at the floor and was speaking in a largely monotone voice. Even he didn’t recognize his own voice. “I mean, I know it was Jerome and his gas, but that wasn’t all. This is what did you in. This feeling, this emptiness. You and I, we need each other, and knowing that we can’t have each other, it drove you insane.” He glanced at the chair he had thrown to the wall and felt his face begin to burn again. 

“It’s driving me insane, too.”

Bruce turned and looked at Jeremiah’s still face, feeling more sorry for him than he ever thought he could. He understood Jeremiah. This was a burden they both had to bear. Neither of them would ever know why they were so connected, why of all people that Bruce Wayne needed in his life, it was Jeremiah Valeska. 

All he knew was that he hated who he had become in the time he had been here. The sorrow, the uncontrollable rage, it was too much. And it wasn’t him. 

He took a deep breath, feeling utterly defeated. Yet, out of the emptiness that had seeped into Bruce’s heart, he felt a strange sense of clarity. Being here, with Jeremiah, hearing the words coming out of his own mouth, gave him something of a glance at what he needed to do. 

Admit it, and walk away. 

“I need you, Jeremiah. But I will not become you.” He glanced back at Jeremiah’s face in sadness and finally got up from the bed, hoping that making this declaration, letting the words pierce the silent air of the hospital would make Bruce believe them.

“I will find a way to live without you.” 

And Bruce Wayne turned, steely resolve making his body tremble as he took a few tentative steps toward the door, ready to go back to his life, to go back to Alfred and Selina and everyone else, ready to start teaching himself how to live without Jeremiah Valeska.

Bruce nearly jumped out of his own skin when he felt a hand tightly grab his. He wheeled around, already on the defensive, and found himself staring into Jeremiah’s open eyes.

Bruce felt himself stiffen, unsure of how to proceed. He felt like a deer in headlights, completely frozen in the wake of the eyes of his other half. The eyes he never thought he would see again.

Before he could speak, Jeremiah did so, “I told you.” His voice was gravelly and sounded as though he had something caught in his throat. He hadn’t spoken in weeks, after all, and his voice was muffled by the bandages around his mouth. He reached up with a very shaky hand and pushed the bandages off his face. Even just the small gesture of lifting his hand seemed to be a chore, but despite that, he was smiling. “You need me.”

Bruce felt as though all feeling had seeped out of his legs. How long had he been awake? How much of his breakdown had Jeremiah been awake for?

“H-how..” Bruce’s voice was tiny and barely audible, and Jeremiah spoke over him before he could finish the sentence.

“I heard you come in a little while ago. Didn’t know it was you until you started talking. I can’t tell you how hard it was to keep a straight face.” He started giggling, a frighteningly familiar sound that made something happen in Bruce’s chest that, like most other Jeremiah-involved things, he couldn’t understand. 

Bruce didn’t know what to do or what to say. He had come here to try and make sense of his emotions, but he wouldn’t have done so if he knew Jeremiah could actually hear him. He pretended as though he could, so he could make sure he didn’t leave anything unsaid or undealt with, but he didn’t actually want to speak with him. He just wanted someone to talk at for a few minutes.

He suddenly became very aware of Jeremiah’s hand still holding his.

“Let me go, Jeremiah.” He said it with fervour, but made no effort to pull his hand away. Jeremiah was very clearly weak, so if he wanted to, Bruce could simply tug his arm and free himself. He didn’t need Jeremiah to do it for him, but something wouldn’t let him leave without his permission.

“Oh, come on, Bruce, it’s been a while. I mean, we didn’t really leave on the best note last time, after all.” Jeremiah hadn’t stopped smiling since he pulled the bandages from his face. He was enjoying this immensely. He had just gotten everything he had always wanted, after all. 

Bruce Wayne needed him, and he knew he needed him. Bruce Wayne came to him, of his own free will. He was finally starting to see what was so obvious yet unspoken between them. He was finally starting to feel the connection.

“I think we’ve done enough catching up for the day, if you don’t mind.” Bruce looked away from Jeremiah’s eyes and gave his hand a small tug, but he still remained in Jeremiah’s grip. 

“For the day? Does that mean you’ll be back?” Jeremiah teased in a sing-song voice, starting to giggle again. 

“ Not even close.” Bruce snapped, lacing his voice with as much icey vitriol as possible. “Apparently I already told you, but I’ll say it again: I’m going to learn to live without you.”

“So, you don’t deny that you need me?” Jeremiah gave Bruce’s hand a small squeeze.

“No, I don’t. There’s no point in that, you already heard me. But, that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you in my life. You still hurt so many people, including the two people that mean the most to me. I need you, but I’m not going to let you in.”

“You say that like it’s easy.” Jeremiah’s smile started to fade, and a coldly serious expression settled on his face. It was one Bruce hadn’t ever seen on him. It was a look of sympathy. “Take it from me, Bruce, it’s not that easy. You and I, we’re bound together. We can’t just cut each other out. We’ll always be drawn back. I mean, look at you. You say you won't let me back in, yet you still came here. You’re still standing here, holding my hand.” He drew these last few words out as much as he could. His grin crept back onto his face. “I thought you would’ve saved the hand holding for your dear Selina.”

Bruce finally yanked his hand away at the remark, and Jeremiah burst into laughter. It was weak laughter, but laughter nonetheless. 

Bruce glared down at Jeremiah’s smiling face. “I came here to deal with some unresolved emotions, that’s all. I’m not saying that it will be easy to leave you behind, but it’s something that I will do.” 

Jeremiah kept smiling, but his glee was gone. “Well, good luck with that, Bruce. Let me know how it turns out for you.”

Bruce’s breath hitched, and he felt as though he wanted to say something else, but his thoughts failed him. He had nothing more to say that would make this encounter hurt less. He felt his heart tugging at him to stay, but his mind was pushing him out the door. Back to reality. Staying in here, with Jeremiah, was a fantasy, something that couldn’t happen. 

After all, wanting and needing were two very different things. Bruce knew he needed to step out the door before he started to want again.

“Goodbye, Jeremiah.”

Bruce began to walk away from the bed, faster this time, but was once again halted before he could exit. 

“Did you mean it?” Jeremiah’s voice called after him.

Bruce turned half around, not ready to fully commit to coming back into the room. “Did I mean what?”

“When you said that I mean nothing to you. Back in Ace Chemicals, before I fell. Did you mean that? I mean, we were friends, at one point, before all of this happened.” Jeremiah’s expression was soft, so soft he was beginning to resemble his old self. His redheaded self, the Jeremiah that Bruce first fell in love with.

That thought rattled Bruce’s brain and made him sway on his feet. 

In love with? Those aren’t words he had ever used when thinking about Jeremiah before. Was that the problem? Was that why they couldn’t let go of each other?

Were Bruce Wayne and Jeremiah Valeska, in some twisted, diabolical, fucked up way, in love?

Were his want and his need, in this case, synonymous?

The thoughts shocked Bruce into silence, so much so that he almost forgot to answer Jeremiah’s question. The distraction made him forget to think about an answer, so he ended up answering honestly and without thinking.

“No, I didn’t mean that.”

Bruce stopped, wanting to sew his mouth shut so as not to say any more, but much like when he first began speaking to Jeremiah, he couldn’t stop the words once they were out of his mouth.

“You did mean something to me Jeremiah. You always did. I really did care about you, and, as much as I don’t want to, I still do.” Bruce walked slowly back toward Jeremiah’s bed. “I…” 

Wait, am I gonna say it?  
Bruce found himself at a loss for how to finish the statement. He couldn’t tell Jeremiah he loved him and then just walk away. Bruce had never told anybody outside of his family, Alfred included in family, that he loved them, but he knew the commitment that came with such a grandiose proclamation. But he knew that saying it in the first place was wrong in a whole slew of other ways. He was so lost in his thoughts, he simply stood with his mouth slightly agape, searching desperately for any way out of the situation he had backed himself into.

Jeremiah, meanwhile, was smiling like crazy. It wasn’t his wide and scary smile, either. It was another soft expression, something more akin to the old Jeremiah. It suddenly occurred to Bruce that this was the most reminiscent of his old self that Jeremiah had been since Jerome had gassed him. That thought washed a wave of comfort through his body.

Bruce ended up giving up on finishing the thought, so he simply closed his mouth and stood awkwardly at Jeremiah’s bedside. He didn’t need to finish the thought. Jeremiah knew exactly what the end result was supposed to be. 

Bruce wasn’t the only one that found the words difficult to say. Jeremiah chose to show his feelings through actions rather than words. He had told Bruce he wanted them to be bonded by love, sure, but that was different than saying ‘I love you.’ Jeremiah’s actions may have been extremely twisted, but through his own eyes, they were charged with more love than anything else. And yet, Jeremiah understood Bruce’s apprehension, so he didn’t push him. He just smiled up at his other half, happy beyond belief that Bruce was here with him.

“Sit with me.” It was quiet, almost a whisper, but it wasn’t a question. Jeremiah reached out again for Bruce’s hand, but despite the demand, he was asking for it. 

Bruce hesitated and then shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Just for a minute, I know you want to.” Jeremiah wiggled his hand slightly, an encouragement.

Bruce swallowed hard, afraid of saying yes, but knowing he would regret it if he said no. So, Bruce Wayne decided to embrace this fantasy, this world inside the hospital room that was adjacent to reality. The world where he could be in love with Jeremiah Valeska without shame or guilt, without feeling as though he were going insane. He decided that, just for tonight, just for the few hours left of the early morning, he would stay. He would return to reality when dawn broke, go home to Alfred, relieve him of his fear that something bad happened, return to the GCPD, to Selina and Jim and everyone else. But, for now, for the first time in a long time, he decided to do something selfish, something just for himself.

Bruce stepped forward and took Jeremiah’s hand softly in his own, stepping fully through the looking glass into his wonderful gaze. 

“Alright,” Bruce whispered, “Just for a minute.”

Bruce climbed onto the bed and put his head down on the pillow next to Jeremiah’s. He curled his body up next to Jeremiah’s and wrapped his hands around his arm. Jeremiah leaned his head slightly and pressed his forehead against Bruce’s. Bruce looked up into Jeremiah’s eyes and was met with a smile. 

“Thank you, Bruce.” Jeremiah mumbled.

Bruce unlatched one hand from around Jeremiah’s arm and placed it against Jeremiah’s cheek. He grasped at his face, softly caressing his burned cheek with a gloved hand. Jeremiah leaned into his touch, his expression softening even more, looking bewildered that Bruce would extend such a touching and gentle gesture. 

Despite all that was on his mind, all that he knew he needed to do in the morning, Bruce smiled and closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax into Jeremiah’s warmth. 

“You’re welcome.”

It was the best he had felt in far, far too long.


End file.
